


Fall

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth [5]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Broadway, Cell Phones, Estrangement, F/M, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Phone Calls & Telephones, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following City, Tom and Kristiane finally talk through their confusing relationship, and some of the complications they’ve faced with the long distance</p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall

**FALL**

The rest of my conversation with Tom only descended into one word answers after he discovered that I agreed to a date with someone else. He was verbally telling me to go out with Matt, but his clipped speech, less than exuberant delivery and the coldness threaded through his phrasing told me otherwise. The angry, hurt girl that had been left behind and told not to wait for him was itching for a fight, but I refrained, leading to the one words answers.

It was highly unfair for Tom to be hurt that I agreed to a date with another, especially after he told me to do just that. In his mind, based on the words he forced himself to utter, he knew he was being unreasonable, precisely the reason I didn’t jump in the ring with my fists poised. I loved him, and he loved me, so I gave him a generous lead.

Eventually we gave up with the conversation with no further mention of our feelings for one another, his impending trip to New York or the chance to talk again. Best to leave it until we could speak about such things when we weren’t playing at high school.

Terry came home only a few minutes after me, and went into his bedroom, distracting himself from our discussion with late night television. Once I ended the call with Tom, I knocked on Terry’s door. With a grunt of approval from the other side, I let myself into his room. My best friend was sprawled out on his queen sized bed, surfing channels without paying attention.

Without a single word spoken between us, I curled up beside him on the bed. Placing my head on his chest and lining my body along his, I flopped my arm around his waist, to make the hurt go away. Our discussion, our disagreement about Tom didn’t matter on the scheme of our friendship. Our overly dramatic fights were reserved for important roommate arguments, who should run the dishwasher, who should clean the bathroom, and who used more of the laundry detergent this month. Terry loved me, knew how much I cared for Tom and didn’t want to see me so devastated again. I loved Terry, knew he was looking out for me, and didn’t hold him accountable for talking sensibly.

One of the three of us had to be sensible.

I didn’t cry or need to talk out my feelings, Terry knew and didn’t ask. He tucked his arm around me and let me sleep against him through till morning.

*

I didn’t hear from Tom again until the next night after my date with a very nice horse groomer from Ohio. I was camped out on my bed, working on my new Sunday crossword puzzle with Terry playing the Chicago cast recording in the background. My phone buzzed and shrilled with an incoming text.

‘What’s done cannot be undone.’ On a scale of 1 to 10, how angry are you with me? May I try to make amends yet? Your Shakespeare? – Tom xx’

Quoting Macbeth was probably not the best course nor the most romantic to choose from to apologize. Oscar Wilde Kristiane answered back with: ‘Arguments are to be avoided; they are always vulgar and often convincing.’ – K’

Preferring to talk with me instead of exchange text after text, Tom called my phone. The impulse to make him chase me down was strong and I was feeling inclined to do it, but with the phone in my hand, that seemed more than silly. I didn’t need to draw this out. We needed to get past this, so we could concentrate on seeing each other again in a few weeks.

When I connected the call, I heard his voice before I could greet him or snark at him, “I don’t want to argue with you, Kristie. I’m sorry.”

The rush of words caught me off guard, and I was ill equipped with a comeback against sincerity. Shoving my crossword puzzle aside, I rolled over on my back to hear him out. I sighed, “Go on.”

“I was wrong and I’m profusely sorry.”

“You can’t make me feel bad for doing what you told me to do, Tom.”

“I know I can’t. I didn’t react the way I should have, and I’m sorry.”

I went silent, weighing up if I should give in and forgive him, let it go and move on, or make him work for it a little more. I really wanted to put it behind us.

Hearing the hesitation and dead air, Tom said quietly, “Kristiane, I… I didn’t want to let you go. These weeks… I’ve had some of the best times of my life out here, but these weeks… after knowing you and your regard for me, I can’t help but think how much better it would be if I could share it all with you.”

“I couldn’t get to California often, not with my job, taking care of my voice,” I acknowledged disappointedly.

“I don’t mean the dating part of it, though that would be amazing. I mean that I regret not being your friend, in the interim, to share in your life even in a small way, fall in love with you all over again.”

I swirled my pencil through my fingers distractedly, wanting to hop the first plane to California just to hug him, wrap my arms around him and hold him for as long as he would let me. Being without him was difficult, missing him every minute of every day with no real distraction to pull my focus from the man who stole my heart. “I went out with Terry’s friend tonight,” I said to the ceiling, on autopilot.

I couldn’t explain where the thought came from or why I would even tell him that, but I did. This wasn’t a test for him to pass or a cry for more attention from him or to push his buttons. There wasn’t a motive, the words came out and I was stuck with dealing with the consequences. A long pause hung over the cell towers connecting us. He finally asked, “How did it go?”

He surprised me by asking conversationally with no tone, no clipped speech, normal Tom, asking after the weather. The only indication that my news hit a chord with him was the long beat of airwaves. “Tom, he was very sweet. We don’t have a lot in common but he pulled my chair out, held the door for me, and paid for the meal. He was very nice.”

“I’m… uh… I… that’s uh…”

“Tom, he wasn’t you.”

“Is this good news for me?”

“My preference? You, Tom.”

There was a whoosh of pent up air that he released from his lungs in a rush. “May I still come to New York to see you in a few weeks?”

“Yes, of course. I’d really like to see you.”

“Kristie, how do you put up with me, this life?”

I laughed a little, ironically thinking over my role in this saga. “Have I had a choice in all of this?”

“What would you prefer?”

I sat up in my bed, surprised by the question since Tom had made all the decisions between us. “Are you really asking me?”

“I’m really asking. I’ve not handled this well. I expected you to remain single, though telling you, encouraging you otherwise. I miss you. I miss your friendship. I miss your… everything, to be quite honest. What would you prefer between us?”


End file.
